


recursion

by simaetha



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, M/M, implicit dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 06:43:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8134103
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/simaetha/pseuds/simaetha
Summary: “My Tyelperinquar,” he says, voice lingering on your name, rich and musical and satisfied. “Isn’t this better, my sweet?”


  “Better?” you ask, smiling.





	

“ _Tyelpe_ ,” Annatar says, dropping into your lap – half-laughing, his eyes bright. You steady him against you, automatic, your hands at his waist; and he smiles, as pleased with himself as you have ever seen him.

He kisses you, and you reach up to run your hands over his shoulders and back, opening your mouth for him, letting him pull you closer. He pauses only to smile again, taking your face in his hands, examining you with the delighted attention he might give to some well-made treasure.

Light filters in through the silken hangings.

His fingers twine with yours, the ring he wears shining, golden in the dimness. Your own ring clicks against it – _complicated_ , you start to think, about the design; and then he kisses you again, distracting.

“My Tyelperinquar,” he says, voice lingering on your name, rich and musical and satisfied. “Isn’t this better, my sweet?”

“Better?” you ask, smiling.

He strokes your hair.

“Of course,” he says, still satisfied, as if it were an answer. “Don’t worry, dear one. I’m here now.”

“Annatar – “

Another kiss, and you sway into his touch.

***

Your workshop in Eregion. The quality of light is the same, the afternoon fading. Your tools are laid out around you, designs diagrammed on papers scattered over the workbench and pinned up on the wall – the mathematics of it in scraps here and there, fragments uninterpretable without the whole.

Annatar leans over the bench, fascinated.

“Oh, this is _clever_ ,” he says, pleased. “Yes. I see it now – “

Narya gleams in your hand, a spark of fire, ready to catch. You turn it over, puzzled, watching its reflection come and go in the surface of the ring you already wear.

“But what did you _do_ with it, Tyelpe?” Annatar asks, smiling. He takes your hand in his, and you glance up at him, surprised; you hadn’t seen him cross the intervening space.

“What do you mean, _do_ with it?” you ask, laughing. “Why would I do anything with it? Annatar – “

He makes a face.

“That _is_ the problem, isn’t it,” he says, and smiles at you again; rueful, now. “No. Alright – “

***

You’re pacing in your study, the afternoon fading, clouds greying the sky outside the windows. Something is terribly wrong –

“ _Ah_ ,” Annatar says, sitting on the edge of your desk, leafing through letters and scrolls. “Yes. _This_ is more useful. You don’t keep your correspondence in very good order, do you?”

“ _Annatar_ ,” you say suddenly relieved, and go to him, reaching out. “I thought – you – I thought there was – “

“ _Oh_ – Tyelpe, no, come here – “

He wraps an arm around you, and pulls you down to sit next to him, warm and comforting.

“Now,” he says, smiling at you, “help me with these. If you had a message that was _important_ – “

“What about?” you ask, leaning against him, closing your eyes to press your face into his hair. “Annatar, why does it matter? I don’t remember things happening this way – I don’t – remember – “

“Hush,” he tells you, and you fall silent with a shaky noise, as he strokes your back, soothing. “Don’t worry about that, Tyelperinquar. Tell me – “

“But this isn’t how it _happened_ ,” you say, sitting up, and he gives a frustrated sigh.

***

“Tyelpe?” he asks, tilting your face up in his hand for examination, and you blink at him, confused. “Shhh. _There_. Perfect.”

Light filters in through the silken hangings.

“ _Annatar_ ,” you say, relieved. He kisses you, the ring he wears a slight pressure against your jaw, where his fingers spread; he touches you not so much carefully as with care, a very deliberate gentleness.

“Let’s try that again,” he says, smiling.

***

Narya and Nenya and Vilya feel heavy in your palm, the stones glinting against each other, light reflecting light, as if you had reached out and caught the stars in your grasp.

Annatar cups your own hand in both of his, eyes warm as he looks down at the Three Rings, almost glowing with satisfaction.

“These are lovely, Tyelperinquar,” he says, sincere; and you smile back. Then Nenya’s light catches against the other ring, the one you’re still wearing.

You hesitate.

Annatar raises his head, and gives you a look that is – as pleased with you as he is with your creations, all tenderness.

“But what _did_ you do with them, Tyelpe?” he asks again, mouth curving upwards, as if you shared some pleasant secret between you. His tone is curious, a little amused. He could be asking you for anything.

“I – “ you start, and then stop. “I don’t – have them anymore.”

“Well, I did know _that_.”

“What happened?” you ask him, suddenly urgent. “Annatar, what’s _happening_ , what are you – “

“It doesn’t matter,” he says pleasantly, his fingers closing over yours. “The Three, Tyelperinquar. I don’t need everything, just tell me what you did next – “

***

Light filters in through –

He kisses you, and pushes you down, fingers tangling in your hair; his weight over your hips. You kiss him back, desperate, your hands catching in his robes, trying to hold on.

“Are you _trying_ to be difficult?” he asks, laughing.

“I don’t understand,” you say, gasping for breath. “What am I – what’s _difficult_ – “

***

Afternoon fading, the position of the sun unchanged behind the clouds.

“What were we saying?” you ask, apologetically. You keep losing track.

“You were going to tell me about the Rings,” Annatar says, unperturbed. He smiles at you, taking a sip of his tea.

You smile back, reassured by his composure. “What did you want to know?”

“Everything.”

Your furnishings are unchanged, the smooth polished wood of the table between you, the warmth of the cup in your hands, a patterned rug under your feet. Around you stretches out devastation. The walls are gone, broken foundations showing only traces of houses and streets; the air is clouded with dust.

You feel suddenly and unbearably sad, for reasons you do not understand.

“I _know_ ,” Annatar says, sympathetic, sipping at his tea again. “Tell me, Tyelpe. I’ll make things better at once, I promise.”

You push your chair back and stand, looking around.

“What about this one?” you say, gesturing at the ring on your own hand. “I don’t remember _this_.”

“The _Three_ , Tyelpe.”

You reach for the ring you’re wearing and start to take it off –

***

Light filters in –

“ _Tyelperinquar_ ,” Annatar says, concerned, holding your hand in his. His grip is too hard, painful, grinding bone against bone, and you make a thin noise of discomfort –

***

You reach for the ring you’re wearing and start to take it off –

***

“ _Tyelpe_ ,” Annatar says, smiling, gentle. He takes your face in his hands, and examines you with the same care he might give to any treasured possession, as if handling something precious to him.

You feel relieved, as if at the lifting of a burden you had hardly known you were carrying.

“Is everything alright?” you ask, smiling back.

Light filters in through the silken hangings.

“Of course,” he says, sounding pleased. He strokes your hair, petting the waves of it back from your temple. “Everything is _perfect_ , Tyelperinquar.”

When he kisses you it feels only natural to kiss him back, opening your mouth for him, letting him pull you closer; until he catches your hand in his own. The ring he wears feels warm against your skin, the heat of his hand all through the metal.

Your own ring –

The ring he wears feels warm against your skin, the heat of his hand all through the metal; and you kiss him again, twining your fingers together.

“My Tyelperinquar,” he tells you, his voice rich with satisfaction. “Don’t worry. You don’t need to worry about anything, now. We can keep doing this for as long as it takes.”

“What would I be worried about?” you ask, smiling.

He laughs, delighted.

“ _Exactly_ ,” he says. “Here, now. Just once more – “


End file.
